


And to Hold

by jungle_ride



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/pseuds/jungle_ride
Summary: It's been months since Neal proposed to Emma but they're still no closer to getting their wedding off the ground.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan
Kudos: 2





	And to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Finally getting around to sorting and uploading my work from livejounral over to here.

It's been months since Neal asked Emma to marry him. It hadn’t been the most classical of proposals, then again they weren't the most classical of couples. Neal hadn't take her to a restaurant or some other thought of romantic location; he hadn’t dropped to one knee or produced some long speech that had left her in tears. In fact the whole thing, up until the words “marry me” had been uttered, had been so ordinary that it had taken Emma several days, and a diamond ring on her finger, to finally convince her that she had not made the whole thing up because… _really?_ Happy endings are kind of hard to accept when, for the majority of your life, you've been used to the apocalypse, fire and brimstone finale.  
  
They had been leaning against the Bug waiting for Henry to finish school when it had happened. Neal had stood with one arm slung over her shoulders watching her with a fond smile. She'd been tucked into his side, an arm wrapped around his waist, talking about how they needed to stop off at the shops on the way home to pick up toothpaste, when out of nowhere Neal had swooped down and kissed her hard. It was the sort of kiss that went from a simple ‘I’m quite in love with you’ peck to ‘we’re going to be arrested for indecent exposure if we don’t slow down’ make out session. When finally the need for air had forced them apart Neal had rested his forehead against hers and breathed into her still open mouth “marry me”, his voice husky and full of _need_. Emma had soon realized that kissing someone whilst you are smiling, laughing with tears in your eyes, repeatedly saying “yes, I love you, yes, yes, yes, I love you, yes” was a pretty impossible task, but she had kept on going anyway, because she was finally getting the ending she had wanted for herself since she was seventeen and had stolen a stolen car.  
  
It’s been months now since that moment but Emma was still no closer to getting their wedding off the ground. It not really her fault though or Neal’s. They already know what sort of wedding they want, it’s just it’s not the wedding their _families_ want.  
  
Emma’s teeth clench as she crosses out what she had previously written on a notepad with such gusto that the pen practically tears the paper in half. She takes a long look at the other five things she had previously written before giving in and ripping out the whole page entirely. Scrunching it into a ball Emma throws it across the room with a growl of frustration, it misses the waste bin and lands in the heap of paper balls already scattered over the floor.  
  
Determined not to give up just yet, Emma picks up a larger notebook, one that is covered in white lace and has the words ‘wedding Ideas’ written in gold across the front. Opening it, she sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose as an extensive list that covers _forty-five_ pages is revealed. The list contains a mixture of handwriting styles, cursive, lopped, printed, scribbles Emma can hardly read. None of the writing belongs to her or Neal, because this particular catalogue of concepts was given to her by their _entire_ family. Family is perhaps the wrong term, what she means is the entire population of Storybrooke, _everyone_! The whole forty-five pages consisted of _their_ thoughts about what the Emma and Neal wedding extravaganza should look like.   
  
Emma manages to read twenty five pages of the manifesto, getting to Leroy’s bold print on the bottom of the page and his suggestion of a free bar, which he had underlined several times for emphasis, as well as putting three exclamations points, just in case they hadn’t quite got the point, before her head starts to spin. The air around her becoming hot and sticky. Emma's chest clenches as the ever familiar cold pricks of panic begin to creep up the back of her spine, and her whole body twitches with the sudden need to escape. 

Slamming the book shut Emma slips off the bed making her way over to the bottle of scotch she’d left on the table. She pours herself a glass and takes a large gulp, closing her eyes and concentrating on her breathing, forcing herself to slow and elongate each breath until finally she feels back in control.  
  
It’s not that Emma hadn’t realized the complications of planning a wedding; it was as much a stressful experience as it was a happy one, and that was before you added in the very vocal and contrasting personalities that resided in Emma and Neal’s combined relatives and friends. So yeah, from the moment Neal had popped the question Emma had _always_ known that this wedding was going to be somewhat difficult to plan. She'd thought she was prepared for it though, but that was then and this was now. The now being a time where everywhere she went she was cornered by one person or another who wanted to discuss color schemes, flower arrangements, venues, music, party favors, food and cake. It wasn’t just her either; plenty of people had approached Neal as well to the point where he was now suggesting they just elope, taking Henry with them of course. A solid plan, expect they both knew it would kill their respective parents, they had missed out on so much already.  
  
However at this point the over intrusion was honestly boarding on harassment, or perhaps they’d already passed into that territory. Considering the fact they were now hiding out at Granny’s bed and breakfast, mobiles switched off, the phone in the room disconnected and Granny under strict instructions to not let _ANYONE_ up the stairs; the use of crossbows had been green lighted, told Emma that yes they had definitely crossed the point into madness. Hell even Pongo had turned up outside their flat with a piece of fabric in his mouth, granted it had been a lovely yellow silk that was the exact same shade as the bug, and Emma did intended to use it, but it wasn’t really the point.


End file.
